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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339716">tastes like ruin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnneovelvet/pseuds/damnneovelvet'>damnneovelvet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>to write or not to write [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drabble, Friends With Benefits, Implied Sexual Content, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:15:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnneovelvet/pseuds/damnneovelvet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For the first time, in a room filled with the thick scent of oil, Renjun feels suffocated.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>to write or not to write [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913998</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tastes like ruin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is originally on twitter. I decided to post it on ao3 to preserve it.</p><p>This was born out of a random word challenge that was introduced by ao3 user bigdamnher0, and while the original was of 15 words, I used only 10.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>- lick</p><p> </p><p>With hushed whispers, too close, comes the softness of a tongue Renjun's only ever known for spewing words sharper than knives, and it leaves behind a trail of wetness threatening to sink deep into Renjun's skin, the high it brings promising to never leave.</p><p>He burns with heat, threatens to come undone beneath careless fingers.</p><p> </p><p>- spotless</p><p> </p><p>A canvas. A brush, thick paint dripping off the bristles and onto the floor. The world spins like it always did, balanced, with parched earth craving the passion of overcast skies. </p><p>For the first time, in a room filled with the thick scent of oil, Renjun feels suffocated. </p><p>When he leaves, the canvas stands as white as it always had.</p><p> </p><p>- wild</p><p> </p><p>Another night, another tryst, tangled within silk bed-sheets that will never belong to him. Renjun bites down a moan — eyes closed — deep red rising to colour both his lips and his ears. His fingers grasp onto Donghyuck's thigh, pliant flesh but hardened muscle, slick with sweat. A light shiver pulls him away from the haze. He gasps for breath. And then he's rushing into a reality he wishes were real, someplace with only stars against the fabric of sky, and Donghyuck, with him, in him.</p><p> </p><p>- unhealthy</p><p> </p><p>"Are you okay?" A hand rests on Renjun's shoulder. Rather than the comfort of a friend, he feels the weight of a person who breathes lies. </p><p>His breath stutters as he opens his mouth to answer. His heart flutters, then it slows, slows, slows to a pause, afraid to start beating again for someone who wakes up to the warmth of a different body every morning. If heartbreak was beautiful, it wouldn't feel like the apocalypse beckoned decades too early.</p><p>He nods, lips stretching into a thin smile.</p><p> </p><p>- wine</p><p> </p><p>By the time it's too late to swallow the regrets pooling at the back of his mouth, he learns to pretend everything is fine. There is a sketch on the canvas. There is a sun shining overhead. There is a gentle voice lulling him to sleep.</p><p>In the mirror, with a t-shirt drenched in crimson, he also learns to pretend it's the remains of his bleeding soul. If it paints a picture worth looking at, he wouldn't know.</p><p> </p><p>- substance</p><p> </p><p>A week of nothing. </p><p>His bedroom drowns in vicious silence, ringing in his ears, and everything turns dark as the seconds tick past. It's a battle between the ache in his swollen wrist and a phone call he anticipates. He knows the call will never come, the same way his pencils refuse to listen.</p><p>There's always someone else, because will little Renjun ever have what it takes to set himself apart?</p><p> </p><p>- raspy</p><p> </p><p>It is downright sinful to be held this close. The intensity of Donghyuck's gaze pins Renjun till he shatters into the image of lust. His cheeks flush, chest heaves and wet lips part wide. The voice next to Donghyuck's ears sends him in a frenzy. There is nothing but oblivion, hiding a dangerous spark in his body. </p><p> </p><p>- wrist</p><p> </p><p>"Is this weekend good for you?" He asks. Renjun's stare fixes where he circles Renjun's wrist with gentle fingers. A pulse, a sigh. Donghyuck waits for an answer, inherent lack of patience clawing its way to his head. It makes him dizzy.</p><p>Renjun doesn't raise his eyes, just gives a curt nod with lips pressed into a straight line.</p><p>"But this time, it'll be the last." </p><p> </p><p>- damaging</p><p> </p><p>To indulge in carnal desire is a way to grab artistry by its ankles. To be inspired is to drag it out from the depths into the spotlight. </p><p>Renjun, however, travels a bit too far. </p><p>Self-restraint isn't a virtue when you dream big. There is only a vision of creating a masterpiece, of reaching that magnum opus one loses sanity for. </p><p>They never told him love looked like a man dipped in bronze. He has wandered past his destination, and in this insatiable greed, he finds himself unable to take a step back. There's only one way. And it tastes like ruin.</p><p> </p><p>- last</p><p> </p><p>Slipping out of bed, knowing he will never step foot in here again, hurts.</p><p>Renjun sits up straight, and takes in a deep breath, chest tight. His back hurts, rigid and marked with scattered violet blooms. Amongst them, there's scratches he didn't feel in the heat of the moment. </p><p>If hope weren't born of falsehood and if his fleeting wishes weren't rooted in naivety, Renjun would consider staying. He would trick himself — lie and say you're loved, you're wanted — and let the colour bursting behind eyelids turn to ash once again. </p><p>But there is no tomorrow. How can there be a future when only one of them suffers in silence?</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>have a lovely day ahead.</p><p>---<br/>Lower your Shoulders and Unclench your Jaw:</p><p><a href="https://checkpoint.carrd.co/#">Keep check of your Mental Health </a><br/><a href="https://youtu.be/DWcJFNfaw9c">ChilledCow Lo-Fi</a><br/>---<br/><a href="https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel-coronavirus-2019"> Keep in check with the pandemic </a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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